


Before the Lights Go Out

by iknowhowmystoryends (gorgeouschaos)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, this fic contains depictions of the spread of a disease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28495314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeouschaos/pseuds/iknowhowmystoryends
Summary: Dean is the torturer, and some days he thinks he might still be in Hell.Sam hands Dean the holy water, and some days he wonders if any of it is worthwhile.Cas watches it all, and some days he questions if there was any other way this could have ended.(Pestilence is never found, the spread of Croatoan doesn’t get stopped at the end of Season Five, and the world ends. This is Team Free Will in the aftermath.)
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Before the Lights Go Out

**Author's Note:**

> I went with “Mature” for language/violence/mild sexual content. Lemme know if you want more info.  
> Title from 5x04, “The End”.  
> Apologies for the formatting. It shouldn't be an issue in the future.  
> I'm looking for a beta reader for this one, as it looks like it'll be a long one, so if you'd be willing to let me bounce ideas off of you and proofread my run-on sentences, please shoot me a DM on Tumblr (@i-know-how-my-story-ends) or an email (iknowhowmystoryends@gmail.com).  
> Lastly, I have no idea when the next chapter will be out. If it's been more than a month or two, feel free to nudge me.

At first, they thought they could stop it. 

Castiel watched as Sam, Bobby, and Dean argued in circles. 

He stayed silent. He would accept whatever decision Dean came to.

“Cas?” Sam asked, turning to him with desperate eyes. “Tell me you’ve got another option. Something besides killing everyone who might be infected.”

Dean and Bobby looked at Castiel as well.

Castiel hesitated. He hated seeing Dean so lost, but he was out of options. He had been for a long time.

“I do not have another option,” Castiel said, and Dean closed his eyes.

“We can’t just kill innocent people,” Sam protested. “Even if--”

“Even if it saves the rest of the goddamn world?” Dean finished. “‘Cause that’s the thing, Sammy. This is our only fucking option.”

Sam sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t like it.”

“I’d be worried if you did,” Bobby said. “Nobody likes it. But it’s what we’ve got. And they’re already dead, Sam. They just don’t know it yet.”

“Then let’s go,” Dean said, standing up. “We need to catch it before it’s too late.”

“In all likelihood, it is too late,” Castiel informed them.

“Yeah, well, we’re gonna act like it’s not,” Dean snarled.

Castiel inclined his head. “Of course we are. That’s what we do.”

He was merely stating facts. He did not understand why Dean looked proud.

“You should split up,” Bobby said, wheeling into the kitchen “Cas, I don’t suppose you know how to drive?”

“Dean has shown me,” Castiel said. “But I will not be leaving his side, after everything.”

“Dean taught you how to drive?” Sam demanded. 

“Yes,” Castiel answered, puzzled. “In the Impala. He said it was important to being human.”

Bobby coughed into the ensuing pause. Sam appeared to be experiencing difficulties breathing. “Right, well. We--  _ you _ \-- should split up. Y’all could cover three cities if Cas drives.”

“No,” Dean said. “Splitting up and leaving ourselves with no backup is a damn good way to get ourselves all killed.” 

“If you don’t split up, people will die,” Bobby argued.

“And I don’t care,” Dean snapped. He made a visible effort to reign in his tone at Bobby’s raised eyebrows. “Look, I want to save as many people as possible, okay? But I don’t want to lose any of you.”

“Dean…” Bobby trailed off. 

“I can’t lose you,” Dean said. “I’ve seen how this goes down, and I’m not losing you. Any of you.” He looked around the table. “Get that through your thick skulls now, guys, because that’s one thing that ain’t gonna change.”

“Whatever,” Sam said. “Let’s just get moving before it’s too late.”

_ It is already too late,  _ Castiel thought. He didn’t feel the need to say it a second time.

“I’ll get some other hunters on the other major cities,” Bobby said. “We can’t afford to waste time, though, so get your asses on the road.”

Castiel, Dean, and Sam took the Impala and hit the road. 

Bobby watched them leave, cursing his lack of functioning legs and praying that they would all return. 

They took New York, much to Dean’s chagrin. 

“I hate cities,” Dean grumbled, tossing his bag onto his bed. “I hate ‘em so much, Cas.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We know, Dean.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Cas, because Cas is nice to me. They’re so crowded,” Dean continued unabated. “And there’s so many stupid people. And there’s no parking. My Baby wasn’t meant for cities, Cas.”

Castiel nodded dutifully.

“Tell him to shut up at any time, Cas,” Sam told him, grinning. 

“I like listening to Dean,” Castiel said. 

Dean flushed bright red. Sam’s smile widened.

“Uh.” Dean coughed. “Right. Thanks, Cas. Let’s get some sleep, start tomorrow.”

Castiel had denied his Fall for a long time, but he was no longer able to resist the pull of sleep. 

He took the pull-out. 

Castiel awoke with a stiffness and ache in his back which had never been there before. He found it most uncomfortable.

“We’ll switch off with the pull-outs, okay, buddy?” Dean said, noticing Castiel’s wincing. “I know it’s not the most comfortable, but we can’t really afford a second room.”

“It is no bother,” Castiel lied. Lying was becoming easier the longer he was around the Winchesters.

“Don’t lie to me,” Dean told him. Perhaps Castiel had not improved at lying as much as he thought he had. 

“I’ve had worse.”

“That's…” Dean sighed. “We’ll switch off.”

Sam brought back coffee and three fruit-yogurt concoctions he called parfaits for breakfast.

“Really, Sam? Rabbit food?” Dean muttered, letting a blob of yogurt fall from his spoon into the container.

“This is not what rabbits eat,” Castiel informed Dean. “This is a nutritious breakfast consistent with a human’s dietary requirements, although the preservatives are above ideal concentrations.”

“Cas--”

“Cas knows what he’s talking about,” Sam said. “Eat your not-rabbit food, Dean.”

Dean ate his parfait. He ate it with a distinctly unimpressed expression, but he ate it.

The three of them hacked the records of everyone who had gotten the “vaccinations” and started killing the infected.

Sam, looking pale, called what they were doing “executions”.

Castiel knew it was just a matter of semantics. The souls of the infected were gone the moment the virus caught and the only regret he felt was at the necessity of the killing.

He had served as a soldier for longer than the Winchesters could comprehend; he had killed far more entities than they had, at least directly. He had led armies and defied the will of both Heaven and Hell.

Castiel did not care what words Sam felt it necessary to use. It was death, and he was accustomed to dealing with it.

He would do much more to protect Dean and Sam Winchester than kill things that were no longer human.

Everyone who had been reported as receiving the Croatoan injections in New York was executed within the week. There were no signs of the infection spreading, which was suspicious-- Dean and Sam’s memories of the virus indicated that it was manifesting itself much too slowly-- but the three of them tried not to question it.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel had to sneak out of the city, considering the manhunt for them, but they managed it. The FBI miraculously hadn't gotten a clear shot of them.

Castiel couldn't get the smell of sewer out of his trenchcoat for days, but they managed to get out of New York.

As the days stretched out and no major outbreaks were reported, Castiel found himself beginning to believe that perhaps the virus could be contained. He did question if their apparent success was just the calm before the storm, but Castiel let himself believe that maybe this might not be the end of the world after all.

The news of an unexplained disease spreading from Boston hit CNN and Castiel’s hopes came crashing down.

They fought it, of course. What else could they do?

The government shut down the airports and the roads around the city and military rule was instituted. Bobby bullied, cajoled, and guilt-tripped every American hunter he knew into joining Castiel, Dean, and Sam in Boston. 

It wasn’t enough. No matter how many “Croats”, as Dean called them, were killed, there were always more. 

The police joined the hunters in putting down Croats after a week.

“You’re not gonna take us in?” Sam asked, standing back to back with a cop, guns drawn. 

“Don’t question it, Sam,” Dean barked. Castiel twirled his angel blade and waited for the Croats at the alley entrance to attack.

“Nah,” the cop said. Her aim and voice were steady. “We’re all on the same side here, right? Them and not-them. Also, I’m like eighty percent sure you guys are legally dead, so.”

“Fair point,” Sam conceded.

The cop didn’t make it out. Castiel chose to save Dean instead of her without hesitation. 

“Thanks,” Dean said, swiping guts off his face. “Next time, maybe don’t stab one so close to my face?”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I save your life,” Castiel said. “I’d hate for your hair to get messed up, considering how much time you spend on getting it to stick up like that.”

Dean sputtered as Sam laughed. 

“This is all natural, Cas,” Dean protested. He accepted Castiel’s offered hand and staggered to his feet. “I woke up like this.”

“Lying is a sin, Dean,” Castiel informed him. 

Dean was too busy being insulted to look back at the police officer’s dead body.

A police officer in Boston was infected. She managed to drive to Philadelphia before the virus took over. 

Five days later, half of Pennsylvania was in quarantine.

A Croat took a flight to San Francisco from Pittsburgh. The virus kicked in an hour into the flight. By the time the plane landed, most of the passengers were dead and the rest were infected. The pilot was ripped to shreds; the plane landed anyway. 

Two weeks later, Croats were spotted in LA.

“Fucking automatic landing systems,” Dean muttered, pacing the length of the motel room the three of them were in. “ I’d like to shoot whoever came up with that tech, ‘cause there goes the entire fucking West Coast.”

“It seems like perhaps our attempts to limit the spread of the Croatoan virus are… futile,” Castiel commented. 

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. He tossed his laptop onto the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I think maybe most of the US is pretty much screwed.”

“It ain’t over until we say it is,” Dean said. 

“I’m not saying it’s over, Dean,” Sam said. “I’m saying maybe we need to accept that we can’t kill a hundred million people, and maybe we need to reevaluate our strategy.”

“I’ve seen how this ends if we don’t stop it,” Dean told Sam. “I can’t let that happen.”

“So how do we stop it?” Sam’s face was set with resolve.

“I’ve got no frickin’ clue.” Dean looked to Castiel. 

Castiel sat down on the bed. “It is possible,” he said, speaking carefully, “that capturing or killing Pestilence may allow us to stop the spread. It is an option.”

“Will it work?” Sam asked. “It seems… risky.”

“I did not say it was a  _ good _ option,” Castiel said. “I merely said it  _ was _ an option.”

“Now you’re thinking like a Winchester,” Dean said. He clapped Castiel on the back. 

All flights from North America were shut down. The UN began cure research. Mexico and Canada shut down their borders with the US entirely.

A fishing boat out of Alaska landed in a small village in Russia. 

The rest of the world didn’t even know that the Croatoan virus had spread from America until the Russian government bombed St. Petersburg off the map.

That might have worked, except a group from doctors disobeyed Putin’s orders and went into the ruins to help the survivors. 

Moscow was under military rule within four days. 

Crowley didn’t answer any of their summons. Castiel even used the remnants of his waning Grace in an Enohcian summoning, to no effect.

Dean found a crossroads, buried a box, and waited for five hours, Castiel keeping watch. Nothing happened.

“What do we do now, Cas?” Dean asked, sitting beside Castiel on the hood of the Impala. 

Dean looked at Castiel like he still believed in him. Like he still thought Castiel had answers.

“We keep trying,” Castiel said. “That’s all we can do, Dean. We keep going. Something will break eventually.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then we take as many sons of bitches down with us as we can,” Castiel said. “Because that’s what we do.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s tie, pulled him in, and kissed him. It was short and clumsy and perfect.

“Um,” Castiel said succinctly. 

“Sorry,” Dean said, scrambling away. “I--”

Castiel caught his arm.

“Do it again.”

Castiel’s night vision was still sharp enough to see Dean’s smile.

Castiel experienced being tipsy for the first time in a small hotel room in Durango, Colorado. Sam had decided the more sparsely populated areas would be the safest, and the towns in the Rockies were fairly isolated.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Dean asked. He was on his fifth beer; Castiel was on his twelfth. It was yet another sign of his Fallen status that he could even experience the effects of alcohol.

“Yes,” Castiel said. He took another large sip. “It makes everything feel more... distant.”

“Yep.” Dean hesitated. “Just… just stick to alcohol, okay, Cas? None of the hard stuff.”

“I have no interest in becoming a drug addict.”

Something Cas could not identify flashed through Dean’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, I know, Cas.”

Castiel fell asleep on Dean’s chest. 

(Sam raised an eyebrow but attributed it to the alcohol.)

The virus spread through Mongolia to China. Shanghai’s streets were occupied by the People’s Liberation Army within twelve hours of the first Croat being spotted.

By that point, Castiel, Dean, and Sam were back at Bobby’s. The Winchesters claimed to be looking for lore on Pestilence. Castiel suspected there was more to their decisions to return to Sioux Falls, but he did not ask.

Castiel was fond of Bobby as well. 

Neither Sam nor Bobby asked any questions when Dean tilted his chin up and told them, “Cas and I are gonna be sharing a room.”

Castiel’s hearing was much less acute than it had been when he was an angel. He could still hear the hissed conversation which occurred after he and Dean started upstairs.

“I knew it,” Sam whispered. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.”

“Everybody knew it, you ain’t special,” Bobby responded. 

Castiel locked the door behind himself. 

“May as well live it up before the lights go out, right?” Dean asked. His tone didn’t match the tension in his shoulders. 

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Castiel had been living with the expectation he would die since he’d gripped Dean Winchester tight and raised him from Perdition. The threat of impending death appeared to be a side effect of believing in the Winchesters.

“More or less,” Dean said. “But since we might not have long, we better make the most of the time we got.”

Castiel smiled and moved closer.

(Downstairs, Bobby and Sam fled to the shed to avoid hearing things they could not unhear.)

South Africa was infected. Nigeria followed, then Egypt and the Middle East. 

India came next.

It turned out mosquitos could spread Croatoan.

“We better stay out of the south, then,” Dean said. He snapped off the radio with a sharp twist of his wrist. “And everywhere fucking else, while we’re at it.”

Sam slammed his hands into the table, pushed his chair back with a screech, and went outside.

The four of them got drunk that night. Bobby was the only one who had the sense to go to bed before he passed out.

“Why the Hell  _ not _ have another beer, Cas?” Sam asked the ceiling at two am. 

Castiel rolled his head over to look at him. They were sprawled side by side on Bobby’s rug. Dean was snoring into Castiel’s ear, his arm wrapped unconsciously around Castiel’s waist. 

Sam’s words were slurred. “None of us are gonna live long enough to die of liver failure.”

Castiel laughed and laughed as the room spun around him and another feather drifted down from the arching ruins of his wings.

Europe shut itself down, but the chaos in Ukraine allowed for a few Croats to slip through the barriers. Most of the European mainland was infected within a month. Britain took another five days. 

Jody called to let them know that Croatoan had spread to Montana. Dean put the phone on speaker and slid it to the middle of the table.

“I don’t know what to do, guys,” Jody told them. She took a deep breath. 

“Maybe… Maybe you should head up here,” Dean said to her. “I think we need to prepare for the worst.”

“And what exactly does that entail?” she asked. 

“I don’t know, Jody.” Dean sounded defeated enough that Castiel risked placing a hand over his. Dean flashed him a weary smile and continued. “I just know that whatever’s coming, if we face it together, we have a better chance at winning.”

There was silence. Dean flipped his hand over to squeeze Castiel’s. 

The thing between them was new and fragile. Castiel had no idea where the boundaries lay, or what he was supposed to be doing. 

But it was good.

Jody exhaled sharply. Castiel knew this must be difficult for her. She took her duties very seriously.

“All right,” she said. “All right, I’ll drive over. We can sing campfire songs to our assault rifles while the world ends.”

“Hey, that’s just a regular Tuesday night for us,” Dean said. He ended the call. 

They lost cell service three hours later.

“The one time we’ve been lucky,” Dean muttered. 

“At least Jody’ll be safe,” Bobby agreed.

New Zealand was the last country to fall. 

“Last time, I ended up at Camp Chitaqua,” Dean told the four hunters around the table. “It’s somewhere outside Kansas City, Seemed to work out okay, more or less, but I’m kind of shooting in the dark here. Anyone got any better ideas, uh, speak now or forever shut your cakehole.”

Bobby held up a hand. “Hang on. Last time?”

“It’s a long story that involves dick angels and dick me,” Dean said dismissively. “I’ll tell you about it later. Point is, we need somewhere to hole up while we try to find where Pestilence is.”

“This place isn’t safe enough?” Jody asked. “I thought Bobby had this place on lockdown pretty well.”

“Not against Croats,” Dean said. “Or the military, for that matter.” 

Dean’s gaze seemed far away. Castiel did not like the look in Dean’s eyes.

“I would suggest a place with natural barriers,” Castiel said. “Durango was a good choice.”

“Yeah, except we need to eat,” Sam pointed out. “And if this is a long-term thing… the Rockies aren’t really known for their farmland.”

Castiel conceded the point.

“And Baby wasn’t meant for mountain roads,” Dean added. 

“Obviously your car’s the most important factor here,” Jody muttered.

“Damn straight,” Dean said.

The United States declared martial law in every major city.

“Camp Chitaqua it is, I guess,” Bobby said. 

“Stock up on toilet paper,” Dean said grimly. “That was the one prophecy Chuck made that actually mattered.”

Dean drove the Impala to Camp Chitaqua with Castiel in the passenger seat. Jody took her truck and Sam drove Bobby in the van specialized for his wheelchair. None of them were sure how long cars would be viable with most of the world on fire, but they took three in case they needed the vehicles

“No fooling around, you crazy kids,” Sam ordered Dean and Castiel as he turned on the van. He was smirking. 

“Oh, shut up,” Dean said, flipping his brother off. 

Sam just laughed through the van window. Castiel made a mental note to make Sam laugh more often. The sound of his laughter was all too rare these days.

“You should try getting laid, might work wonders on your attitude,” Dean told Sam before climbing behind the wheel of the Impala.

Their little group stopped for gas in southern Iowa, avoiding the larger cities as much as possible. The gas station was deserted.

“Do we know if Omaha is a hot zone yet?” Dean asked Jody. “Or Des Moines?”

She shook her head. “Military zones, I think. I heard Omaha’s on lockdown, anyway. It’s a good sign that we haven’t seen any infected yet, right?”

“I think so.” Dean did not sound convinced. Castiel shared Dean’s disquiet. As Dean had informed him many times, when something was quiet, it was too quiet.

They didn’t pay for their gas.

“Bigger problems to worry about, Sammy,” Dean said when Sam frowned. “Way, way bigger problems.”

Castiel tended to agree with that assessment.

“I doubt we’d get arrested for raiding the store...” Jody said.

“Sheriff!” Bobby gasped, holding his hand to his heart. “You’re not suggesting we break the law, are you?”

“I am not afraid to shoot you, Bobby Singer,” Jody said. 

They raided the store.

Sam did a double-take when he saw the pile of toilet paper Dean was carrying. “Are you okay, Dean? Any medical problems?”

“I’m following the Word of God,” Dean said.

Castiel frowned. “Dean, I am fairly certain--”

Dean kissed him to shut him up.

When Dean pulled away, everyone was staring at the two of them.

“What?” Dean demanded, bristling.

Bobby raised his hands in surrender. “Just surprised you finally came around, is all.”

“It’s the end of the world, Bobby,” Dean said. “I’ve seen how this goes if I keep things the same, and it ain’t good.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I’m glad you two finally got your heads outta your asses.” Bobby’s sincerity made Dean a little more relaxed.

“I’m judging you,” Sam said. “But that’s because you two are morons.”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

“I agree with Sam,” Jody said. “Took you long enough.”

“Et tu, Jody?” Dean huffed. “Come on, Cas, let’s go.”

Castiel let himself be towed over to the Impala.

They arrived at Camp Chitaqua around noon. It appeared to be an abandoned military base. Castiel did his best to disguise his disquiet about the base’s state of dilapidation. Dean noticed.

“It’s a little bit of a work in progress, huh?”

“To put it mildly.” The chainlink fence was topped with barbed wire, but the wire was torn and dangling out of shape; the fence itself was filled with gaps and looked as though it was held up more by hope than anything physical. Castiel could only hope that the cabins he glimpsed through the gates were in better shape.

“It’ll work,” Dean says firmly. “It worked last time.”

Castiel bit his tongue. Dean glanced over. 

“Spit it out, Cas.”

“I thought we were trying to avoid “last time”.”

Dean shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, well. Look how well that’s been working out.”

Castiel remained silent. 

“Last time I didn’t have Sam. Or Jody. Or a plan. And last time I didn’t have you, not really. It won’t be the same. I promise.”

Castiel nodded. 

“I promise,” Dean repeated, and he said it like he was daring the Devil himself to prove him wrong.

“Okay,” Castiel said, and if he had his doubts, he kept them to himself.

Because he would believe in Dean Winchester-- and fight for him-- until his dying breath. 

“This is it?” Bobby demanded, gesturing. He didn’t look overly impressed.

“Guess so.” Dean looked around the camp. 

“What now?” 

Dean paused, scanning the faces of the group. Nobody else spoke up, although Sam did shift slightly closer to his brother. 

Castiel no longer possessed the ability to read thoughts, but he could still read Dean’s face. 

Dean was wondering how he had ended up in charge.

_ Oh, Dean, _ Castiel thought.  _ You were always going to end up in charge. Because we were always going to end up here.  _

__ “I guess we start by checking out the cabins,” Dean said. 

The five of them split up. Castiel went with Jody and Bobby; Dean went with Sam.

Castiel watched Dean walk away. His commander’s shoulders were looser than they had been since the breaking of the last Seal. Castiel found that concerning.

“Focus up, loverboy,” Jody said, smacking his arm. “It’ll be dark soon, and I don’t fancy spending the night in the back of the van if I don’t have to.”

“Hey, the van’s mine. You want to sleep in it, we’re gonna have to share.” Bobby didn’t sound too annoyed by the prospect.

“Sam can sleep in the back of the truck,” Castiel said. 

He had not meant to be humorous, but Jody and Bobby laughed. 

“Moving awful fast, aren’t you?” Jody asked. “Sleeping in the Impala, just the two of you…” she wolf-whistles. 

Castiel frowned. “It is likely we have very little time left together. We would like to make the most of it.”

Jody’s smile faded.

“What he means,” Bobby said, glaring at Castiel, “is that they’ve spent a year moping about each other and being idjits, and now that they’ve got their act together, they’re not wasting time.”

Castiel felt compelled to nod in agreement. Bobby’s glare was rather fearsome.

“Right.” Bobby rolled up to the foot of the nearest cabin stairs before stopping in annoyance. “Ain’t the military ever heard of the ADA? Jesus. You two go ahead.”

Castiel made a note to ask Dean about installing ramps. He knew Dean found working with his hands soothing, and the modifications would make Bobby happy as well.

There were about forty cabins in total, with twenty in decent enough condition they could be lived in. They were somewhat musty, but for the most part appeared to be structurally intact. 

“Just need to air it out some,” Jody concluded, descending the stairs from yet another cabin. “Maybe replace the windows, steal some new mattresses from somewhere…”

“Maybe knit some nice floral curtains,” Bobby muttered. 

Jody smacked his arm with the back of her hand. Castiel felt his lips twitch into a half-smile.

Maybe, just maybe, this might work.

“There’s no way in Hell this is going to work,” Dean said into his hands. “What was I thinking? What were you guys thinking, putting me in charge? How did that happen, anyway?”

Castiel sat beside him on the musty lower bunk. They’d left the door of the cabin they’d chosen open, but the beds smell of old rot.

He placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Castiel could feel the heat of Dean’s skin seeping through his leather jacket. It was comforting. 

But Castiel wasn’t the one who needed comforting right now.

“Because we believe you can win.”

“Win what?”

“This.”

Dean rolled his head to look at Cas with a distinctly unimpressed expression. Castiel elaborated.

“Win against Lucifer. Croatoan. All of it.”

“How, Cas? How?” 

Castiel thought that he would always find hearing desperation in Dean’s voice unnatural. The man he’d Fallen for had been so certain, so convinced of his path. This man… 

This was the same man, Castiel reminded himself. This was just that man facing down a fate he finally believed to be inevitable. 

Castiel wished briefly that Sam was here. The Winchesters, for all their antagonistic tendencies, were much better at reassuring each other than he was. Still, he did his best. 

“We stay together. We keep each other safe. That’s what matters.” Castiel paused. Dean’s eyes were locked onto him, so he kept going. “We find Pestilence, we make him stop this. That’s our best plan at the moment. And if that doesn’t work out, we’ll find another way.”

Dean nodded. “Because that’s what we do.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Dean sighed and dragged a hand over his face. Castiel resisted the urge to smooth the furrows between Dean’s eyebrows with his thumb. “Okay. Let’s go set up a patrol schedule.”

The five of them decided on two nightly shifts of four hours after some debate. By unspoken agreement, deciding the schedule for daily shifts was postponed. 

“So for tonight we go eight to twelve, twelve to four?” Dean concluded. “Draw straws?”

“Sure. Except if we go in pairs, that means one person’s left out,” Bobby pointed out.

There was a pause. Sam glanced at his brother and spoke hesitantly. “Um, Bobby… I don’t think your wheelchair’s meant for patrolling on dirt.”

Bobby’s face turned thunderous. Castiel braced himself for the impending explosion. 

“I’m not deadweight, boy.”

“That’s not what I said,” Sam said. “You know I don’t think that. I just don’t want your wheelchair to break. Maybe we can put down some planks or something, make a walkway. But for now…” He trailed off. 

“I think he’s right, Bobby,” Jody murmured. 

Bobby’s jaw worked. The conflict between his pride and his need to please Jody was clear. “Fine.” 

Sam threw Jody a grateful look. 

Since they did not have straws, the four of them ended up writing their names on a piece of paper. Bobby picked two at random.

“Dean and Jody get the first shift, Cas and Sam the second. Great. Can we take inventory now?” Bobby rolled backwards, eager to begin. Castiel suspected he was also eager to feel useful.

Castiel could empathize. 

Dean shrugged. “Sure. Sam and I found the mess hall. Looks like there’s some canned stuff left over. We think we found the armory, but it was locked, and I wasn’t sure if we should break in.”

Bobby wheeled his chair around. “Great.”

They did end up having to break into the armory. There were no windows, so Sam and Dean broke down the door. It took three tries for the rusty padlock to snap.

Castiel could have simply snapped the lock off, once. Now he watched the Winchesters kick down the door and memorized the way they did it.

“No brooding,” Bobby ordered him. “If I don’t get to, you don’t get to.”

Castiel swallowed words so sharp they hurt his throat. Bobby had lost his legs; Castiel had lost everything which had made him what he was.

Bobby could never understand. He was human. It was not his fault he had no comprehension of what Castiel had given up.

There were lights along the ceiling, so Dean flipped the switch by the door a few times. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. The Winchesters pulled flashlights from inside their jackets with the ease of long practice.

“There’s gotta be a generator or something around here,” Jody said. “Could be useful. Unless you guys need me, I think I’m going to go look for it.”

“Go ahead.” Sam swept his flashlight over the back wall. “Yell if you need us.”

Crates of ammunition were stacked along the walls. Castiel had no knowledge of the differences in gun calibers, so he hung back while Bobby and the Winchesters inspected the faded labels. In doing so, he found a trapdoor in the back corner. 

At Dean’s request, Castiel retrieved a crowbar from the Impala’s trunk. He wrenched the trapdoor open before anyone else could offer to do it.

He might have been human, but he was not useless. 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel climbed down the ladder; Bobby waited above, his face dark with frustration. 

The armory’s basement, although approximately the same size as the room above it, was much darker without any sun to light it. Sam and Dean’s flashlights were just powerful enough to illuminate the safes within.

“Five bucks says that’s where the guns are,” Dean said, gesturing to the nearest vault. “Dad did tell me at some point that they keep the firearms more locked up than the ammunition.”

“Don’t suppose you packed up the safe cracking equipment?” Sam inquired, rather humorlessly. 

Dean snorted. “We have enough guns with us for now. We can open the safes later. Preferably after we get the generator running. Besides, we should look over the rest of the camp before it gets dark.”

“Yeah.” Sam cast a last look around the basement and started up the ladder. 

It took about a week for the five of them to fall into a loose routine. Castiel enjoyed the sense of order-- he had been created a soldier, after all, and soldiers were made to obey orders and keep to a schedule. 

During the day, the five of them rotated between repairing things as well as they could, patrolling the area, and scavenging for supplies in the abandoned buildings close to the camp.

Between shifts, Castiel spent what time he could with Dean, which often involved target practice. Sometimes their target practice was productive, the two of them sipping beers while shooting cans off fences. Sometimes it was less so. When their nightly patrol assignments coincided, they did less sleeping than was perhaps wise. 

It was not entirely peaceful. It would not have been life with the Winchesters if it had been. 

The first Croat stumbled across camp a week after the five of them arrived. Castiel was the first to see it and his hand did not shake as he drew his pistol and fired. His aim was not as precise as the others’ would have been, but the second bullet went through the Croats’ skull. Jody arrived at a run and, just to be safe, blew the Croat’s head off with her shotgun.

“Do we bury it?” Sam asked, poking the corpse with his boot.

_ It _ , Castiel noted. Not  _ him _ or  _ them _ .

“Seems like more work than it’s worth,” Bobby said. “I mean, we can’t exactly leave it here, but we all know how much work digging graves is.”

“We could burn it,” Castiel suggested. “Set up a pit and set it on fire. I doubt this one will be the last.”

Dean nodded. “Anyone object?”

“This isn’t court, Dean,” Sam muttered. “Nobody’s gonna raise a hearsay objection.”

“Been watching The Good Wife again, have you?”

As a reward for his idea, Castiel got the honor of picking where the designated cremation area would be. 

The Croat was not the last. At some point between the second and third attacks, someone left a gallon of gasoline by the pit. 

Castiel missed his Grace with an acute pain which never dulled, but with Dean at his side, a gun in his hand, and the others at his back, he thought he was about as content as he was ever going to be. 

Naturally, their routine got shot to Hell.

“S’pose it’s best to stock up while the military still has control of Kansas City,” Jody commented to Castiel, twisting the cap off a beer. Bobby was tinkering with a radio in his cabin, Sam was making one last patrol of the perimeter before dinner, and Dean was finishing up that night’s batch of stew thrown together from rabbit and canned vegetables, which left Castiel and Jody sitting in front of the fire. For their situation, it was rather domestic. “I’d rather not be forced to go into a city full of Croats.”

Castiel was about to agree with her when there was the sound of gunfire, followed by Sam sprinting past them.

Castiel bolted to his feet and grabbed the assault rifle propped against his chair-- Dean had finally gotten one of the safes open-- and demanded, “Dean?”

Even under these circumstances, Sam managed a truly spectacular eye roll. “Where I’m going.” His words were followed by more gunfire.

Grace or not, Castiel found he was still capable of considerable speed when Dean was in danger.

The camp was not large, but by the time they got there the imminent threat had been dealt with. Several Croats were dead on the ground and Dean had his gun raised in the direction of three (ostensibly) humans. 

“Who are you?” Dean barked. Castiel, Sam, and Jodie skidded to a stop behind him. From the corner of his eye, Castiel could see Bobby on his cabin’s porch, his shotgun in his lap.

“I’m Risa,” one of the three said. Dean twitched, although Castiel could not see a reason for him to be disturbed by the name. Risa was pale beneath the blood and mud, but her voice was steady, her eyes were blazing, and she stood in front of the other two with her shoulders squared. Castiel rather thought he might like her. “They’re Riley, he’s Andrew. And we’re here because we ran out of ammo yesterday. Riley’s ex-military, knew about the camp. Thought there might be some here.”

Dean considered her with cold eyes before glancing at Sam with a raised eyebrow. The brothers had one of their silent conversations. Sam must have agreed with his brother, because Dean lowered his gun and flicked the safety on. 

“Yeah, we’ve got ammo,” Dean said. “We’ve also got a lot of empty cabins and a lot of guns, if you want to hang around.”

Risa glanced at Riley and Andrew. Riley shrugged; Andrew nodded.

“We might,” Risa said. “Depends on if you’ve got booze,”

Dean snorted. “I think we’re gonna get along just fine, Risa.” 

Castiel watched as Dean shouldered the responsibility of three more lives. The weight of command sat well on him.

“So… Introductions and shit?” Risa inquired as Dean led the new recruits into the camp.

“Dean.”

“Sam.”

“Jody. This grumpy bastard’s Bobby.”

Before Castiel could introduce himself, Dean said, “That’s Cas.” His hand brushed Cas’ before he jogged to catch up with Sam.

The nickname was not new, but it took on a new significance now.

Cas. Not Castiel, a name which had belonged to God; Cas, a name which belonged to the Righteous Man.

Cas nodded at the newcomers. 

_ In nomine Dean _ , Cas thought, his lips twisted into a wry smile, and the rifle slung over his shoulder felt natural for the first time.

“So, you got a plan?” Andrew asked through a mouthful of beans. Cas could not criticize the man’s manners under the circumstances. Besides, Cas was interested in what Dean would say in response.

“More or less.” Dean’s curt response didn’t dissuade Andrew. 

“What is it?” Jody and Bobby looked just as interested as the newcomers. Cas realized that he and the Winchesters had forgotten to tell them of Pestilence. The Winchesters came to the same conclusion and looked wary. 

“Um.” Dean kept his eyes on his suddenly fascinating boots. “In theory, if we could kill-- or capture, or restrain, whatever-- Pestilence, we could stop all this. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Risa repeated.

“You got a better idea?” Dean snapped.

“No. Just had hoped you did.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam’s tone was resigned. “Nobody has much of a plan, but winging it has gotten us this far.”

_ Winging it.  _

Cas found that far more amusing than was probably warranted. He kept his amusement to himself, though. Dean probably wouldn’t find wing puns humorous.

“And why haven’t we heard about this before?” Jody asked.

Sam and Cas found excuses to look at their boots as well.

“How do you know Risa?” Cas asked Dean that night. Dean unlaced his left boot and let it fall to the floor. 

“Me-- future me, from when Zachariah sent me forward-- and her fucked.”

“I see.”

“That me was a dick.” Dean tugged off his right boot before brushing a kiss across Cas’ cheek. “I’m not him.”

“No,” Cas agreed. “No, you’re not.”

As Dean snored beside him, Cas stared at the ceiling of their cabin and wondered for how long there would be a difference between this Dean and the other one. He wondered how long Dean would still care if there was a difference. 

(Cas didn’t need to wonder for himself. 

He already knew he’d follow Dean, or whatever was left of him, anywhere.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked it, and I love hearing from y'all.  
> Fun fact of the chapter: in case of zombie apocalypse, your best bet-- at least in the US-- is to head for the mountains. You’re in trouble once winter hits, but hey. No people means no zombies.


End file.
